


Fate of the Damned

by Sombre



Category: Aldnoah.Zero (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Broken Friendships, Gen, Guns, Post Ep 20, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-15
Updated: 2015-06-15
Packaged: 2018-04-04 11:32:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4135830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sombre/pseuds/Sombre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's shot her. He's shot her three times. Slaine doesn't want to kill her, though, just wants to make her understand. In this war of petty games, personal feuds,  and perpetual suffering--</p><p>'No' is not an answer he will accept.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fate of the Damned

\-----

It was all too familiar, the violent thudding in her chest, the flurry of bullets, the howls of pain.

But she has to be the one to find him. It has to be her to take it out.

The landing castle of Count Slaine Saazbaum Troyard.

A full scale assault on Earth, that’s what he’d declared to let the counts have their fun. But it was four months since she’d escaped with Inaho, when the UFE tried and failed to assassinate her. Four months Slaine had spent, planning. Four months pinpointing her exact location despite all attempts to keep her hidden. 

Four months until he was sure he could go after her himself.

Saazbaum’s treachery, rehashed. Like father, like son.

Only this time, it had been far more complicated. There had been only a single kataphrakt at first, attacking the Australian capital, minutes after the Deucalion landed there. And then another, and another, and more still, springing up from the ocean, camouflaged and hidden behind buildings, invisible and in the sky above. It might have actually worked as a trap, had Inaho not been consistently one step ahead.

But it’s not enough to evacuate the city in time, not enough to save the lives of the soldiers screaming and dying on the intercom Rayet listens to before dropping her at the castle’s base, not enough to stop the bridges falling into the ocean and the buildings collapsing all around.

Landing castle to landing castle. Blood for blood.

She wonders when it will ever be enough.

The Aldnoah engine room is alive with yellow lights, the echo of gunfire spurring her forward. The drive pulsates with energy when she lays her hand upon it. 

“In the name of Asseylum Vers Allusia,” she shouts, infusing the words with her will, “Sleep!”

She can feel the power draining away, quieting itself, drawing back into the tips of her fingers. Instinctively, she looks to her left, hand on her gun. But nothing crashes through, nothing moves. There is silence.

Then, in the darkness, a voice speaks. Like thousands of tiny icicles in her veins.

“I had a feeling you would make it here.”

When the footsteps approach, she draws and aims her pistol in a single movement. She’s spent weeks preparing for this moment. But knowing who it is beforehand doesn’t stop her from flinching.

“Don’t come any closer.”

Slaine eyes the gun warily, but otherwise doesn’t react. “I just want to talk to you—”

“We have nothing to talk about.”

He smiles and laughs a little, reaching out, taking another step. “Surely you jest—”

The gun goes off, leaving a bullet inches from his feet.

He stares at it and back at her, a glare of ice and contempt settling into his eyes. With that look, she knows a little part of herself has died.

He frowns. “Why do you care about them so much?”

She isn’t going to say anything. Yuki, Inko…somebody would be coming through that door soon enough. If he was  _here_ , then Rayet wouldn’t be left hunting him for much longer. Maybe she had even noticed already. Someone would arrest him. And then she could get far, far away. 

“Answer me, please,” Slaine says. And then a little too belatedly, a little too deliberately. “ _Your Majesty._ ” 

Like he’s rubbing it in her face. Like she needs a reminder. Her grandfather’s dying breath, his squeezing her hands, his urging her to lead.

Her shaking hands immediately still themselves.

“Why do I care about them?” She can’t steady her breathing, though, can’t lower her voice or stop the tears from welling up in her eyes. “Why don’t _you_? Is this your answer, Slaine? Will you kill for the sake of protecting me? Perpetuate a war I never wanted? Do you know how many people I could save, if I shot you right now?” 

“You would save a lot more if you shot yourself.”

Her eyes widen, search his face for explanation.“Wha…what did you say?”

He doesn't respond.

“ _Slaine!_ ” 

“Oh.” He smiles thinly. “So now you want to talk to me.”

Asseylum shakes her head, backing away until she stumbles over the inactive Aldnoah drive.

Someone. Someone please.

Take her away from here.

“It’s going to take more than stubbornly protecting a small group of people to end this, you know.”

And the footsteps approach once more.

“How many people have died in this war your father created? How many people have backstabbed, plotted, lied, and murdered in the name of your empire’s advancement?” His voice is loud and authoritative. She just wants to cover her ears. “Your people, who will stop at nothing until every ounce of water, every molecule of air has been sucked dry from this planet—” he balls his hands into fists, bangs them into the railing, “—how far do you think they will go?”

She cringes. Because he’s right. She’s seen it in Saazbaum, seen it in the ferocious gazes of the counts and knights at her coronation ceremony, seen it in the ever rising death toll, seen it in their blatant disregard for life.

And she hates it.

“Do you remember, a long time ago, when I told you that we all could live together if we worked really hard?”

His voice has softened; she doesn’t even know who she’s dealing with anymore.

When she opens her mouth to speak, her voice comes out small. “Don’t—”

“What do you think is stopping it?”

“Don’t do this to me, Slaine.”

Ignoring her, he goes on. “The power of Aldnoah, the so-called power of gods. A power that impoverishes the many and privileges the few.” His eyes narrow with that same cold content. “For people to get along, they must believe life is fair. And yet, what’s happened? The Vers despise Terrans for living on a perceived land of plenty, and start a war. The counts fight for power over each other, and so perpetuate the war with the willingness to sacrifice their own queen for their goals. The lower-ranking, sentenced to a life of poverty, eat dirt to survive and murder for money. _This_ ,” he hisses in a way that compels her to finally look at him, his arm sweeping out in a broad stroke, “is what your Aldnoah power creates. A cancer that will ceaselessly return unless completely eradicated.”

“So that’s it, then.” Her voice feels like it’s coming from somewhere other than herself. “You’ll kill me, wipe the power from existence, and the world will be a better place.”

“Hardly,” he says, kneeling before her. “If I alone don’t fight, someone else will. But ultimately, we have the same desires--we both want a world where you can be safe.” Smiling, he extends his hand. “And for that, I’ll need your help, Asseylum.”

There are too many thoughts in her head. The way it felt to watch her grandfather’s life slip away before her eyes. The cold, golden staff in her palm, the many eyes of her soldiers, callous in their gazes as she addressed them, before her memories came back, before she realized the true weight of what was happening. The horrible jolt of understanding, a pendant dangling in her fingers.  The sorrow and sympathy in Lemrina’s eyes when she told her about Slaine’s past. The fear in wondering what he had to do to gain so much influence.

But there is only one she can process. It’s the one where she’s so angry she can barely cry, can barely speak. It’s the one where she first points a gun at her old friend, and can’t bring herself to shoot.

But she should have.

“You only want revenge, Slaine Troyard.”

And she smacks his hand away, and stands.

He stares up at her, awestruck, but long ago she stopped being able to figure our where the real Slaine was beneath those red robes. It was time to stop trying altogether.

“I heard about what they did to you. Trillam. Cruhteo. Marylcian. I know how they hurt you. But you’re no better than them, now, not caring who you hurt to get closer to me. I have other people I care about. The world doesn’t revolve around you, Slaine, and destroying it to make it pay attention won’t help.” She takes in a breath, clenches her fists, towering over him. “Your ‘power of the gods’ is the ground the Vers Empire stands on. _I_ am its empress, and I will _not_ allow any harm to befall its existence.” 

He had to hate her then, another member of Versian nobility looking down on his existence. She wants him to hate her. Things would be so much easier then.

White bangs fall over his eyes. “…So there’s no convincing you, then.”

The disappointment in his voice is like a blow to her gut. But.

She promised Inaho that she would stop this war. And to her grandfather on his death bed, she promised…

Asseylum removes a too familiar necklace from her pocket. Tosses it at his feet.

Then Asseylum cocks her gun.

“I will protect the Vers Empire. With my life, if I must.”

_Destruction of my homeland isn’t a prerequisite to peace, Slaine._

Slowly he stands, eyes still carefully hidden. She follows his movements with her gun.

A sudden pounding on the door echoes through the room. “Asseylum!” she hears Yuki call. “Are you okay? Asseylum!”

Her eyes light up; she makes the mistake of looking away.

Just for a second.

A gun goes off and she’s falling, screaming with no voice in her throat, clawing for something to regain her balance and yet unable to move. Slaine’s above, below, all around—steps over her body and the pools of blood beginning to form beneath her leg and shoulder, throws her fallen pistol over the railing.

Another thud, and the door to the drive room spills open.

“Asseylum!”

“The coast is clear, we can finally—”

And then there is silence. She wants to speak, wants to tell them to ignore his bluff when he presses the cool metal against her temple, but her body feels like it’s been hit by lightning, and it’s all she can do to glare hate into his eyes.

He glares it right back.

“Unfortunately,” he sneers, pulling his eyes away, “no isn’t an answer I can accept, Your Majesty.” Then, in a louder voice, a command. “Call off your attack.”

Seconds pass like decades until she hears Yuki speak into her earpiece. “Mustang Leader to Mustang Platoon. The princess has been secured. Retreat to home base.” The voice is slow, or else, time feels like it's slowing down. She has to move, has to act.

Asseylum pulls herself forward an inch, anything to get just a little further away. Without again turning to face her, Slaine shifts his aim again. “I didn’t give you permission to move.”

“Oh, really?” She takes a heavy breath to steel herself against the pain, settling ever deeper into her bones.

_Plunge the knife, make him hate you._

A chuckle escapes her throat despite herself.

“I don’t remember ever taking take orders from you, Terran.”

A third bullet rips into her hand. Asseylum screams and recoils and screams again.

“ _Asseylum!_ ”

He pays them no attention, keeping the gun pointed and kneeling beside her.

“Consider this a warning, then.” His voice, his breath, so loud in her ears. “Sit on the sidelines like the good princess you were, and I’ll make sure you live just long enough to watch your empire destroy itself.”

It’s the last thing she hears, like a howling winter wind, before she passes out.

\-----

Slaine swallows, but the mucus doesn’t go anywhere, stares, but the tears don’t come. The soldiers are watching him, waiting for him to make a move, but he can’t.

He’s shot her.

He’s shot her three times.

He didn’t even think about the words that came out of his mouth, didn’t think about what he was doing at that moment like he had all the others leading up to it. Just functioning on automatic, going through the motions right up until she said _no_ , less than a word and more of an emotion, ripping through him like a bullet through glass.

After all he’d been through.

After all he’d done.

She isn’t moving any more, from this distance he can’t even tell if she’s breathing but she shouldn’t be dead, she _can't_ be dead, he hadn’t aimed for her to die, nevermind that when he did aim to kill the one time that it mattered it hadn’t even worked and

Something in his chest tightens, and the sound of his heart beat grows painfully loud in his ears. His eyes fall to his father’s necklace, idle at his feet, and he almost can’t breath at all. There’s no time for thinking, no time for anything, Asseylum _looks_ dead and the soldiers aren’t going to wait much longer.

It’s going to stay there. Let it rust, let it burn, let it break. For all the luck it actually brought him. For it’s uselessness, it’s only true resemblance to his father. 

There it would stay, buried with any hopes he could ever have her.

Dead.

He grinds his teeth together and makes a break for the railing, bullets ricocheting off of the metal as soon as he moves. Over the steel. Into the darkness. The Tharsis, hidden below, lies open in wait for its master, the shouting above growing ever frantic, bullets continuing to clang into the kataphrakt’s exterior and missing Slaine in ways he wasn’t sure to be grateful for.

He activates its engines, presses buttons. The ball of emotions sinks to the very bottom of his stomach, knotting and wounding around itself until it’s dense enough to feel with every intake of breath. And with it, and the hundreds of packs of ammunition at his fingertips, he forces himself back to running on automatic.

A slew of purple lights stream upwards, and with a great crack the ceiling begins to collapse. Through the monitor he sees her, foisted on the back of one of the soldiers as the debris crumbles all around. If he ever sees her again, he knows he really will need to aim to kill.

And as the Tharsis, striking in the moonlight, escapes into the night, he thinks.

_It should have never come to this._

“Harklight.”

A screen appears on his monitor.

“Order all remaining units to retreat. We’re returning to the moon base.”

“Yes, milord. …And Her Majesty?”

Slaine pretends like his hands aren’t trembling.

“Her Majesty Empress Asseylum…is lost to us.”

It’s only when the screen closes out that he allows himself the tears.

\-----

Her eyes open to darkness.

Tentatively, she lets out a sigh. The mattress is soft beneath her, the silence calming. She barely moves, her arms and legs horribly sore and wounds wrapped in gauze.

“You’re awake.”

Asseylum blinks and turns her head. Inaho closes the book he’s been reading and approaches her. There is the faintest of smiles on his lips, and it does nothing but prompt her tears.

His hand slipping into hers, it just makes it worse. She doesn’t want to be crying; it physically hurts, jostling broken bones and tired muscles. But there is another ache, burning into her like acid. She turns away from him, burying her face into the pillow, squeezing his hand. He squeezes back.

“Why does it have to be like this?” she manages between gasps. “Why do we have to hurt each other?”

He doesn’t answer right away, but she knows what he’ll say. Too many times has she asked him that desperate question, too many times dealt with its response.

“Because it’s war.” 

She swallows and shuts her eyes. “I don’t want this anymore, Inaho. I don’t.”

“I know. But if he continues to be an obstacle, we won’t have a choice.”

His hand twitches in her grasp, and she understands what he’s really thinking. He would never admit it to her, but she’s seen it in him, too, like she’s seen it in the counts, a sort of cold, silent anger, building as the war progressed. If there had been any doubt in his mind about Slaine before, her returning shot in several places must have surely erased it. Asseylum isn’t sure he'll keep listening to her pleas not to kill him. Then again, she is no longer sure she doesn't want Slaine to die.

The tears well up in her eyes again, and she takes a breath to try to keep calm. “I’m sorry for doing this to you. I’m…I’m…”

_I’ll make sure you live long enough to watch your empire destroy itself._

There is a lump in her throat when she opens her mouth again.

“Please…do whatever you believe necessary to save the most amount of people.”

Because she can’t yet give voice to the thing she knows must be done.

“I will.”

\-----

He specifically orders that no one but Harklight be allowed to speak to him for the next twenty-four hours. Maybe the other counts would take it as an expression of shame of defeat at the hands of Terrans. Maybe they would assume he was plotting another way to retrieve their “kidnapped Empress”.

Slaine can't care less about that.

His left leg throbs from kicking down chairs, his heart pounds, his hands tremble. A table ornament lies shattered, the shards mixed in among papers strewn about and littering the scarlet carpeted floor.

Blood thunders in his ears. The world is spinning.  

A knock at the door and his throat tightens. A solid reminder of all the things he has left to do.

But when he tries to speak, there is instead only the hitch of his breath, the awful sinking of his heart, the coiled ball heavy in his gut, the sudden weakness in his knees. He shuts his eyes.

“Come in, Harklight.”

The door slides open, then closed. Even with his back turned, Slaine can feel the other man observing, finding the words.

“Milord—”

The weakness in Slaine’s legs causes them to give, and he falls. _Not now, not now, please_ , but his body won’t obey him, he’s surprised anyone or anything ever does anymore. His fingers grip the carpet, but shutting his eyes and biting back tears doesn’t prevent them from falling.

It is worse, far worse, than when he thought she had died, a long, long time ago.

_I don’t remember taking orders from you, Terran._

The more he sacrificed to reach her, the further away she pulled. Like dying starlight. A deadly game of tug of war, and always ending in blood.

And all he had ever wanted was for her to be safe.

“Why—” his voice comes out hoarse, he he tries again, laughing a little. “Why am I even doing this?”

Despite it all, it’s a fresh wound, stinging and raw to touch.

Harklight keeps his distance but Slaine wishes he wouldn’t. Not even the formal lines of social division could keep him from wanting a pat on the back, the warm reassurance of a friend.

Like he could ever get what he wanted.

“Slaine-sama, if I may…”

Slaine won’t open his mouth yet, doesn’t trust him to speak. So Harklight goes on.

“You once told me that you despised needless suffering because of the pain it perpetuates. That this and past wars have been, if nothing else, incarnations of that cycle, and that you wished to put an end to it, if that’s all your power could afford you. It is clear that, if our empire succeeds in taking control of Earth, this cycle will only continue. The sacrifices my parents’ needed to make so that I may stand here, the many lives lost on the battlefield in an effort to protect our fragile existence—not only will they be meaningless, but repeated. We go on to prevent this, to finally create a stopping point to a method of control that has gone on for too long. ‘For those who have been once wronged seek vengeance—’”

“‘—and twice, justice. But only the strong can manage both.’” Slaine smiles thinly. Count Saazbaum often said this to them, never truly understanding how much of the pawn he was, in the end. “You must think me pathetic, compared to him.”

“On the contrary. I feel honored to call someone so honest and kind-hearted my lord.”

There is a soft, dull thud on the carpeted floor, and Slaine knows immediately that Harklight is kneeling to him. Even while he was in this state.

It takes everything in him to bring himself to his feet. He swallows, but it does nothing to soothe the aching in his throat, or still the shaking of his arms.  

“The truth is, I don’t know if I can accomplish what I’ve set out to do. Someone with true strength would not be so affected by—”

_Betrayal._

“—their own stupidity. But I meant every word. And I will act on them, no matter who stands to oppose me.”

He turns to face his knight, whose head is bowed, his arm swept across his chest. Slaine winces.

“Knowing this, will you continue to follow me?”

“Yes, milord.”

Slaine opens his mouth to finish the words, and balls his hands into fists. Because he had put his life on the line for her, and in the end it had meant nothing. A gracious defeat, an understanding that submission was the only option, perhaps even his old, naïve hope for cooperation. That’s how it was supposed to go. Yet in the depths of his heart, he had suspected it would come to this.

“Even if it means making the empress your enemy?”

“To death, milord.”

There is no hesitation when Harklight speaks.

“Then stand.”

He does, and Slaine almost wants to cry again at the expression of concern on his knight’s face. But he bottles it all up into a wistful smile instead. There would be no going back now. For three years he had fought for her answer, imagined her delight.

And now, finally, an answer she had given him. But this world was bigger than just the two of them. And he would rather die than face another day begging someone else for mercy, or begging for anything at all.

And so it would begin, from the inside, out.

The fall of the Vers Empire.

\-----

His voice comes through choppy and full of static on the television, but in her ears it rings clearly. In her lap, her fists tremble.

“…But despite our many attempts to secure her safety, it has become evident that what was once thought a kidnapping is no more than a purposeful mockery of our concern, a declaration of deceit, and an insult to her ancestry of the highest order. She has assisted the Terran counterattack, even to the extent of murdering one of our very own Orbital Knights. She has openly refused our help. And she has betrayed our trust. So in her place—”

The camera pans, and like there's fire in her veins, it burns.

“—the most noble and sincere, Lemrina Vers Envers, will, as our empress, bear the burden of leading our noble empire to victory.”

Slaine steps aside, then kneels before her. Lemrina takes center stage, the empress’ scarlet robes— _her_ robes—fanning around her and the golden dais. She’s standing, Asseylum notes, and bites her bottom lip so hard it nearly bleeds. She must have finally received proper medical treatment, now that they had no reason to fear her usurping the throne. She must have already been introduced as the next heir in Asseylum’s absence, or there would be chaos on screen, instead of the many dutifully silent knights and counts kneeling before her. 

Slaine has been planning this. Like everything else. It makes her want to vomit.

“Let it hereby be known,” Lemrina’s voice echoes out, “that the Vers Empire brands former Empress Asseylum Vers Allusia a traitor to our mission, her homeland, and her people. As an enemy, she will be dealt with in a manner befitting to the Terrans who aim to obstruct our cause.”

Wittily worded, that. She has to wonder how they would get away with insulting Terrans when they so arduously followed one. Then again, this one has learned their ways so well she wonders if they remember. He’s taken almost everything from her. Opportunities for peace. Freedom. Her very name. And now her empire. Her life would surely be next. 

_You petty little_ child.

Asseylum lets out a breath, and senses the eyes in the room that have settled on her. Inaho touches her shoulder, and she nearly jumps. The transmission has cut out, and the silence hangs heavy. She glances around; they hang their heads and look away. They have tried to hope with her all these months, for her sake. Tried to keep their rationalizations minimal to allow her to keep believing. And now, even though they knew what had to be done, they kept silent, waited for her to say it for herself.

Slowly, she takes Inaho’s hand in hers. She can’t look back at them without guilt, but she’s promised herself she wouldn’t cry anymore. This is war. It is not a negotiation between states. It is not a means of domination. It’s a bitter, personal feud. And it’s a promise to protect the ones she cares for, and the people she swore herself to.

“We will _end_ this war,” she says, steadying her voice, squeezing Inaho’s hand. She raises her eyes, forces herself to meet the gaze of every person in the room. “We will. Starting with the life of Count Slaine Saazbaum Troyard.”

No matter how hard she tried, she could not escape it.

So if this were her fate, then so be it.

**Author's Note:**

> This was a particularly difficult story for me to write, so although this goes for all of my fiction, constructive critique is much appreciated (especially on the writing style and content). In other news, did you know all of the United Earth Platoon names were based on the names of horse breeds? #themoreyouknow
> 
> The funny thing is, I actually wrote most of this story back in February. And I shelved it because, as the series continued, the story seemed too much like it was going to go in this direction ~~and I couldn’t bear the thought that the show would end with Slaine being perpetually unhappy, oh how naïve I was then.~~
> 
> Except it didn’t go in this direction, it veered off in the very end and landed in the scrap heap next to The Room and The Last Airbender movie. So I hope you enjoyed this little Something Completely Different.


End file.
